


No Surrender, No Chance of Retreat

by iamnotokpop



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - The Proposal Fusion, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Literally just the proposal but with Laurens and Hamilton, M/M, help me tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-22 10:08:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8282095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamnotokpop/pseuds/iamnotokpop
Summary: Alexander Hamilton has a brilliant plan to stop himself getting deported and losing his job, which involves a fiancé visa and his executive assistant John Laurens.The Proposal AU





	1. Chapter 1

"Shit." John lurched out of bed and slammed down on his blaring alarm clock. He was late he was _late._

 

Whether it was a good thing or not, John Laurens had the process of getting ready in under six minutes down to a fine art. He practically flew through his morning routine and was out the door and on the way to the coffee shop before you could say Oh-My-God-My-Boss-Is-Going-To-Kill-Me-If-I'm-Late.

 

Some may say he was overreacting, and those some would be wrong. John knew all too well what would happen to him if he didn't get to Washington Publishing House before 8am - or more accurately before Alexander Hamilton, his terrorist of a boss.

 

He batted away the tie flapping at his face as he almost-ran towards the coffee shop. (Almost-ran because last time he _ran_ -ran he sweat like a pig and Hamilton had looked at him like he'd rather he hadn't come at all).

 

The line at Starbucks was out the door and John thought the world might actually be ending until he spotted Maria waving at him from behind he counter.

 

"Here you go." She smiled once he guiltily walked past the line, handing him two take away cups. "Your regular lattes."

 

"You have literally saved my life. Thank you." He put as much emphasis on the thank you as he could before he ran back to the door, shouting another, "Thank you!" over his shoulder as an afterthought.

 

 

 

 

 

Alexander Hamilton was not a patient man. He firmly believed patience was not a virtue and no one ever got anywhere in life by excelling in _patience._

 

However, he was willing to pretend to be if it meant landing him the deal of the century.

 

He stalked towards Washington Publishing House with his chin high and his shoulders back - in the way he knew made people forget he was smaller than them and listen to what he had to say.

 

The phone he had held to his ear rang for a few moments before the man on the other end finally picked up.

 

"Hello, James? How's my favourite writer?"

 

He swerved past a speeding bicycle with a glare. "Of course you've been thinking about our talk, because you know I'm right." He'd be at the building in five minutes. Perfectly on time, as usual.

 

"People in this country are busy, broke, and hate to read. They need someone to say, 'Hey! Don't watch CSl: Indianapolis tonight. Read a book! Read James's book.' And that person is Oprah."

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Cuttin' it close." Hercules commented from his desk as John sped past him.

 

"One of those mornings." He replied, but before he could comment further the contents of one of his coffee cups was down his front and a cart pusher was scurrying away muttering apologies. "Sweet Jesus."

 

 

 

 

 

Alexander could see the building now, and he knew James was _this_ close to agreeing. "James, the truth is all A-plus novelists do publicity. Roth, McCourt, Russo and..."

 

He sighed, strides becoming longer.

 

"James! Can I tell you what else they have in common? A Pulitzer."

 

 

 

 

 

"Herc, I need your shirt."

 

Hercules looked up in confusion and then snorted once he saw his coffee stained shirt. "You're kidding, right?"

 

"Yankees, Boston, this Tuesday, two company seats for your shirt." He paused, already knowing Herc would agree. "You have five seconds to decide. Five-"

 

"Alright, alright man." He laughed, heading towards the floor's bathroom. "Don't worry about the tickets. I'd just rather not see you get crucified by Satans Master."

 

 

 

 

 

In a clean shirt in record time, John just made it to his desk as the officewide message reached his computer, _"IT'S HERE!!!"_

 

He very pointedly did not panic as the clipping of expensive shoes grew nearer. His heart did jump slightly as his boss rounded the corner in a fitted dark grey suit and a neat ponytail, but that was for completely unrelated reasons which John would never think about,  _ever-_

 

"Hello?" Hamilton called pointedly as he strode past John's desk into his office.

 

Mentally steeling himself he hurried to follow him. "Morning." He glanced down at the papers stacked in his arms. "You have a conference call in 30 minutes."

 

Hamilton waved a hand dismissively. "Yes. About the marketing of the spring books. I know."

 

"Staff meeting at 9.00."

 

The man who had previously been booting up his computer paused with a small frown.

 

"Did you call... What's his name? The one with the ugly hands."

 

"Seabury." John supplied.

 

"Yes, Seabury." Cue furious typing.

 

"Yes. I did. I told him that if he doesn't get his manuscript in on time you won't give him a release date." He scanned down his list again. "Your immigration lawyer called. He said it's imperative-"

 

"Cancel the call, push the meeting to tomorrow, keep the lawyer on the sheets." He frowned at something on the screen before a small smile settled on his mouth. It was gone just as fast and John was pretty sure he imagined it (after all, that would mean his boss actually felt _emotion)._ "Get a hold of PR, have them start drafting a press release. James is doing Oprah."

 

John's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "Wow." James was infamously reclusive, and equally reknowned for not partaking in any form of publicity, even though his books were incredible. "Nicely done."

 

"If I want your praise, I will ask for it."

 

John took that as his cue to get to work and was almost at the door when Hamilton's voice called out.

 

"Who is... Who is Maria?" John spun around to find his boss studying his coffee cup curiously. He spun it around to face John and the man immediately wanted to sink through the floor as he spotted the scrawled phone number and the 'Call me, Maria xx' written on the side. "And why does she want me to call her?"

 

John floundered for a moment. "Well, that was originally my cup."

 

Hamilton raised an eyebrow. "And I am drinking your coffee why?"

 

"Because your coffee spilled."

 

Hamilton made a considering noise and took a sip of the coffee. His eyes lit up with a mischievous spark that the rest of his face would never betray and John wasn't sure if he wanted to run for the hills or leap across the desk and kiss him and  _nope definitely not thinking about that-_

 

"So, you also drink unsweetened cinnamon light soy lattes?"

 

John made himself maintain eye contact. "I do. It's like Christmas in a cup."

 

"Is that a coincidence?" Alexander asked, sitting back in his chair. The phone started ringing.

 

"Incredibly, it is." John walked over to the phone, now very pointedly avoiding his boss's eye. "I wouldn't drink the same coffee that you drink just in case yours spilled. That would be..." He cleared his throat awkwardly, plucking the phone off the desk. "Pathetic. Morning. Mr Hamilton's office."

 

Hamilton went back to typing.

 

"Hey, Charles." He paused as his boss starred making elaborate hand gestures towards Lee's office. "We.... Actually we're headed to your office now. Yeah. See you in a few." He placed the phone back down. "Why are we headed to Lee's office?"

 

Apparently Hamilton didn't deem him worthy of an answer and instead stalked out of the office, expecting John to stumble behind him. Of course he did.

 

John bit his lip and decided to breech the subject he had been meaning to for a while. "Have- have you finished the manuscript I gave you?" He tried to keep his voice neutral, making sure not to sound too hopeful. He was pretty sure Hamilton fed off crushed hope.

 

"I read a few pages. I wasn't that impressed."

 

John decided to push his luck. "Can I say something?"

 

"No."

 

Goddammit. "I've read thousands of manuscripts, this is the only one I've given you." He glanced at Hamilton's face to see if there was any sign of him relenting. "There's an incredible novel in there. The kind of novel you used to publish."

 

Hamilton picked up speed again, face blank. "Wrong. And I do think you order the same coffee as I do just in case you spill, which is, in fact, pathetic."

 

"Or impressive." John tried.

 

"I'd be impressed if you didn't spill it in the first place."

 

Hamilton paused once they reached Lee's door. "Remember," he shot John a hard look, "you're a prop."

 

John pushed the door open for him. "Won't say a word."

 

"Our fearless leader and his liege." Charles Lee greeted them with spread arms and an annoyingly boisterous voice. "Please, do come in."

 

Hamilton smiled pleasently and stepped inside, taking in the interior. "Beautiful breakfront." He commented, gesturing to a mahogany cabinet sitting on the back wall. "Is it new?"

 

Lee chuckled -and honestly, who _chuckles_  and rounded his desk to admire it. "It's from the English Regency Egyptian Revival, built in the 1800s. But, yes, it is new to my office."

 

Hamilton smiled again. "Witty." This did not look good for Charles. "Charles, I'm letting you go."

 

John raised his eyebrows and gently closed the office door to any eavesdroppers. This _really_ did not look good for Charles.

 

Lee blanched. "Pardon?"

 

Tilting his head, Hamilton schooled his face into what was clearly meant to be sympathy. "I asked you a dozen times to get James to do Oprah, and you didn't do it." He shrugged. "You're fired."

 

Lee's face went an alarming shade of pink. "I have told you that is impossible. James hasn't done an interview in 20 years."

 

"That's interesting, because I just got off the phone with him, and he is in." Hamilton's face was perfectly composed and his voice was steady and even, an exact opposite to Lee who was rapidly turning more and more magenta.

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"You didn't even call him, did you?"

 

Lee shook his head. "But-"

 

"I know, I know. James can be a little scary to deal with. For you."

 

Hamilton straightened out of his 'sympathetic' stance, obviously tired of time wasting. "Now, I will give you two months to find another job, and then you can tell everyone you resigned, okay?"

 

With that he made his way to the door which John hurriedly opened for him and they both stepped outside. Hamilton slowed slightly as they began to walk away. "What's his twenty?"

 

John look back through the glass windows to Lee's office, where the man was pacing back and forth, clearly muttering to himself and throwing his arms about wildly. "He's moving. He has crazy eyes."

 

Hamilton sighed. "Don't do it Charles. Don't do it."

 

Almost as soon as Hamilton muttered the words to himself Lee threw open his office door and stalked towards them. "You poisonous little bitch!" He shouted , effectively drawing the attention of the whole floor. Hamilton turned around to face him. "You can't fire _me_!" He laughed almost hysterically. "You don't think I see what you're doing here? Sandbagging me on this Oprah thing so that you can look good to the board? Because you are _threatened_ by me! And-" Lee flapped his arms about for emphasis. "-you are a _monster_."

 

Hamilton rolled his eyes pityingly. "Charles, stop."

 

Lee, however, showed no signs of slowing down. If anything he seemed to determined to get everything off his chest. "Just because you have no semblance of a life outside of this office, you think that you can treat all of us like your own personal slaves. You know what?" He sneered. "I feel _sorry_ for you. Because you know what you're gonna have on your deathbed? _Nothing_  and _no one._ "

 

John swallowed and tried to eye his boss carefully. He would never understand the man, whose face was still the perfect mask after having just heard all that. How could anyone be that heartless?

 

He watched as Hamilton paused, as if making sure the man was done. He then took a slow step forward that made Lee falter slightly despite the good foot he had on the shorter man. "Listen carefully, Charles. I didn't fire you because I feel threatened. No." He held a hand up when it looked like Lee was about to start ranting again. "I fired you because you're lazy, entitled, incompetent and you spend more time cheating on your wife than you do in your office. And if you say another word, John here is gonna have you thrown out, okay?"

 

Lee's mouth opened dangerously and John had never really liked the man but he still prayed in his head  _shut up Lee, shut up._

 

"Another word and you're going out of here with an armed escort. John will film it with his camera phone and he'll put it on that Internet site." Hamilton glanced over his shoulder at John. "What was it?"

 

"YouTube?."

 

"Exactly." He turned back to Lee. "Is that what you want?"

 

Lee opened his mouth, and closed it again.

 

"Didnt think so. I have work to do."

 

He spun on his heel and powered back to his office, John in tow, slightly speechless. Also, slightly concerned, not sure if he should offer any comforting words.

 

"Have security take his breakfront and put it in my conference room."

 

John held back a snicker. Hamilton would be just fine. "Will do."

 

"I need you this weekend to help review his files and his manuscript."

 

John hovered by the door as Hamilton made his way to his desk.

 

He was about to nod and get back to work, but then... "This weekend?"

 

Hamilton looked up expectantly. A section of hair had come loose from his ponytail and was falling across his left eye. "You have a problem with that?"

 

"No! I... just my grandmother's 90th birthday, so I was gonna go home and..." Hamilton was giving him the Look now. "It's fine. I'll cancel it. You're saving me from a weekend of misery, so it's..." His boss had stopped listening. "Good talk, yeah."

 

 

 

 

 

The call home to his family went less than perfectly. "I know, I know." He tried to placate his mother, who sounded like she was near crying and oh god he was a terrible son. "Okay. Tell Gammy I'm sorry. Okay? What..."

 

"I just don't don't understand why you can't make time?" His mothers voice came through slightly shaky.

 

"Mom." He rubbed a hand over his face. "What do you want me to tell you? He's making me work the weekend."

 

"So you would rather work than see your family?"

 

"No, that's not... no. I've worked too hard for this promotion to throw it all away."

 

There was a pause. "Your father says he's not happy."

 

John almost laughed. "I'm sure that Dad is pissed..." He noticed a flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye and looked up to see Hamilton leaving his office and approaching John's desk. "...but we take all of our submissions around here very seriously. We'll get back to you as soon as we can."

 

He hung up quickly, wincing at his mother's confused questions and smiled innocently up at his boss.

 

Hamilton paused. "Was that your family?"

 

John didn't even know why he bothered. "Yes."

 

"They tell you to quit?"

 

John huffed a laugh as his phone started ringing again. "Every single day." He lifted the receiever to his ear. "Mr Hamilton's office."

 

Hamilton hovered by his desk, obviously waiting to see what the phone call was about.

 

"Yeah. OK. All right." He put down the phone. "Washington and Burr want to see you upstairs."

 

"Okay." Hamilton nodded. "Come get me in ten minutes. We've got a lot to do."

 

 

 

 

 

Alexander strode out of the lift and across the floor to his boss's office. He fit a smile onto his face -not that it was really forced, he genuinely liked Washington and Burr. But still, he never liked being called away from work, especially when he had so much to do.

 

He knocked once before pushing the door open. "George, Aaron." He greeted them. He opted not to sit. An ingrained habit to make him seem bigger.

 

"Congratulations on the Oprah thing." Burr smiled politely from where he was leant back in his chair.

 

"That's terrific news." George agreed kindly.

 

Alexander smiled and tried not to fidget under the praise. "Thank you, sirs. Can I ask what this is about?"

 

At this, Washington slumped his shoulders and sighed slightly. "Son, do you remember when we agreed you wouldn't go to the Frankfurt Book Fair because you weren't allowed out of the country while your visa application was being processed?"

 

Alexander bit his lip. "Yes. I do."

 

"And you went to Frankfurt."

 

"Yes. We were going to lose DeLillo to Viking. So I really didn't have a choice, did I?"

 

This drew a small, not unkind laugh from Burr, but he quickly straightened in his chair. "Unfortunately, it seems the United States Government doesn't care who publishes Don DeLillo."

 

"We just spoke to your immigration attorney." Alexander did not like the trepidation on Washington's face as he said this.

 

"Great. So, we're all good? Everything good?"

 

"Son, your visa application has been denied. You're being deported."

 

Alexander tried not to gape, but really. "Deported?" He shook his head. _Nononono._.. "There's gotta be - something we can do."

 

Burr shook his head. "We can reapply, but unfortunately you have to leave the country for at least a year."

 

Alexander's brain clung onto that like a lifeline. "Okay. Okay well, that's not ideal, but I can... I can manage everything from Nevis-"

 

"No."

 

"-with videoconferencing, Internet.... No?"

 

"Unfortunately, if you're deported, you can't work for an American company."

 

This was not - this was not happening. This couldn't be _happening_.

 

Washington cleared his throat. "Until this is resolved I'm going to turn operations over to Charles Lee."

 

"Charles Lee!?" He asked incredulously. "The guy I just fired?"

 

Washington's face was an irritating image of pity. And dammit he didn't need _pity_  he needed a  _solution._ "We need an editor in chief."

 

Burr at least, looked like the idea sat badly with him too. "He's the only person who has enough experience."

 

Alexander shook his head. "You cannot be serious. I beg of you."

 

Washington folded his hands on the desk in front of him. "Son, we are desperate to have you stay. If there was any way, any way at all we could make this work, we'd be doing it." The man's attention turned to the door. "Excuse me, we're in a meeting."

 

Alexander turned around to find his assistant leaning through the door frame looking like he wasn't sure what to do with the tension in the room. "Sorry to interrupt.."

 

"What!?" Alexander snapped.

 

 

 

 

 

Honestly John had not been expecting the hostility. He blinked for a moment before pulling himself together. "Mary from Ms Winfrey's office called. She's on the line."

 

"I know." Hamilton grit out impatiently. John flailed in his mind (his boss was  _scary,_ okay?).

 

"She's on hold. She needs to speak with you. I told her you were otherwise engaged."

 

And why... why was that terrifying spark back in his boss's eyes. "She insisted, so..."

 

And why on earth was his boss now looking at him like he'd just told him JK Rowling wanted to sign with Washington publishing House. "Sorry."

 

And now his boss was gesturing wildly for him to come closer. "So."

 

"Come here." Hamilton hissed, fixing him with an obviously significant look, the meaning of which was lost on him.

 

Obediently but no less confused, John inched into the room to stand beside him.

 

Hamilton spun to face their two bosses, a diplomatic smile fixed on his face. "Gentlemen, I understand." Great, because John certainly didn't. "I understand the predicament that we are in." Hamilton looked sideways at John, who really was not liking the calculating look in his black eyes. "And... And there's... Well... I think there's something that you should know."

 

Hamilton looked at him and John looked back and Hamilton nodded minutely and John shook his head back just as minutely. His eyes were clearly saying 'Go along with this or die'.

 

"We're getting married." Hamilton announced, and he finished the statement with an alien's approximation of an affectionate pat to Johns chest. And hold on -  _what did Hamilton just say???_ "We are getting married."

 

"Who..." John's brain was short circuiting. And dear god Hamilton could fix him with as many Looks as he liked but he was very much Not Understanding. "Who is getting married?"

 

Hamilton laughed loudly. Very loudly. "You and I." He grinned at John, full of teeth. "You and I are getting married!" John started shaking his head. Hamilton responded with vigorous nodding and more teeth. "Yes!"

 

Reluctantly, John nodded back at him. "Yes."

 

"We are."

 

"Getting married."

 

"We are getting married." Hamilton reached out for another 'pat' but fell slightly short and ended up somehow more awkwardly patting his stomach.

 

John turned back to his bosses. He had no idea why Hamilton had roped him into this but dammit he was not losing his job. "Yes." Washington was blinking at them, and Burr simply looked bemused.

 

"Isn't he your secretary?" Washington asked.

 

"Assistant." John blurted out, at the same time Hamilton said, "Executive... assistant secretary."

 

"Titles." Hamilton waved a hand. "But, wouldn't be the first time one of us fell for our secretaries. Would it, Aaron? With Theodosia?"

 

There was a slightly stunned (from John and Washington) and slightly amused (from Burr) silence.

 

"So, yeah. The truth is, you know, John and I, we're..." There was a pause, and another astronomically uncomfortable stomach pat. "...we're just two people who weren't meant to fall in love, but we did."

 

John breathed in deeply through his nose. He felt a little ill. "No."

 

"All those late nights at the office and weekend book fairs." John looked at Hamilton and tried his hardest to portray ' _What the hell have you gotten me into'_ with just his eyes. Hamilton looked like he was equally as vigilently trying to portray ' _mess this up and die.'_ "Yeah."

 

"No."

 

"Something happened."

 

John blinked. "Something."

 

"Yep. Tried to fight it and..." Oh god what was Hamilton doing. He looked like he was doing a weird mixture of a playful punch and a stroke on John's poor arm. "Can't fight a... Can't fight - can't fight a love like ours, so..." He turned back to their bosses, both of them now looking equally as bemused. "Are we good with this? Are you happy? Because, well, we are happy. So happy."

 

"Son, it's terrific." Washington shook his head and picked up some papers. "Just make it legal."

 

"Legal. Yes." Hamilton grabbed John by the arm and started dragging him towards the door. "Yeah, well, then that means we...we need to get ourselves to the immigration office. Apply for that old fiancé visa. So. Thank you very much, gentlemen. We will do that right away."

 

From what John could process through the confused fog of his mind, the walk back to Hamilton's office was filled with pointed whispering, completed by Hercules mouthing, 'Dude, him? For real?' Meaning thanks to the magic of office gossip the news of their engagement had spread like wildfire.

 

John tried to keep his face calm but inside he was _panicking._  "I don't understand what's happening."

 

Hamilton, of course, looked like the picture of tranquility. "Relax. This is for you, too."

 

John stared at him in disbelief. "Do explain."

 

Hamilton waited until they were safely inside his office before he continued. “They were going to make Charles chief.”

 

John waited for him to continue. He didn’t. “So naturally, I would have to marry you?”

 

Hamilton sighed and lowered himself into his chair. “What's the problem? Were you saving yourself for someone special?”

 

Honestly, was Hamilton even human? “I like to think so. Besides, it’s illegal.

 

“They're looking for terrorists, not for book publishers.”

 

“Sir.”

 

“Yes?” he asked, not looking up from his typing.

 

“I’m not gonna marry you.”

 

“Sure you are. Because if you don’t, your dream of touching the lives of millions with the written word is dead.” When John continued to stare at him like he’d gone round the bend he swivelled his chair to face him head on. “If I get deported, Charles is going to fire you the second I'm gone. Guaranteed. That means you're out on the street looking for a job. That means the time that we spent together, the lattes, the cancelled dates, the midnight printer ink runs, were all for nothing and all your dreams of being an editor are gone.”

 

John couldn’t believe what he was saying. Well that’s not exactly true, and that was the problem. He could very much believe it, and he was suddenly very aware that his best bet of becoming an editor might actually be marrying his boss. Help.

 

Probably sensing his all-consuming panic, Hamilton continued, “Don't worry, after the required allotment of time, we'll get a divorce and you'll be done with me. But until then, like it or not, your wagon is hitched to mine. Okay?”

 

John nodded.

 

“The phone is ringing.”

 

 

 

 

 

Which is how he found himself in a room in the immigrations office with Alexander Hamilton, a balding man who introduced himself as George Frederick intermittently eyeballing them and their application for a fiancé visa.

 

John shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but immediately stopped when the man’s eyes honed in on him.

 

“So.” He started abruptly. “You must be John. And you must be...”

 

“Alexander.”

 

“Alexander, well... Sorry about the wait. It's been a crazy day today.”

 

“Of course, of course.” Hamilton nodded understandingly. John didn't think he actually had an understanding bone in his body. “We understand. I can't tell you how much we appreciate you seeing us on such short notice.”

 

“Okay.” Mr Frederick laughed amiably. “So, I have one question for you." He folded his arms on the desk. "Are you both committing fraud to avoid his deportation so he can keep his position as editor in chief at Washington Publishing House?

 

For a moment John swore his heart actually stopped and then he was blurting out. “That is – that’s ridiculous.

 

“Where did you hear that?” Hamilton asked.

 

“We had a phone tip this afternoon from a man named...” he glanced down at his papers.

 

Hamilton made a considering noise in the back of his throat. “Would it be Charles Lee?”

 

“Charles Lee.” Mr Frederick confirmed.

 

“Charles. Poor Charles.” Hamilton put a hand to his heart and John almost snorted at how un-Alexander it was. “I’m so sorry. Charles is nothing but a disgruntled former employee. And I apologise. But we know you're incredibly busy, so if you just give us our next step, we will be out of your hair and on our way.”

 

Mr Frederick smiled slightly, seeming to collect his thoughts. “Let me explain to you the process that's about to unfold. Step one, will be a scheduled interview. I'll put you each in a room, and I'll ask you every little question that a real couple would know about each other.” John swallowed. “Step two, I dig deeper. I look at your phone records, I talk to your neighbours, I interview your co-workers. If your answers don't match up at every point, you” he jabbed a finger towards Hamilton. “Will be deported indefinitely. And you, young man,” Another finger, this time at John, “will have committed a felony punishable by a fine of $250 000, and a stay of five years in federal prison.”

 

Well. That was an interesting development.

 

“So, John. You wanna talk to me?”

 

John shook his head.

 

Mr Frederick kept staring at him. “No?”

 

His head started nodding.

 

“Yes?”

 

Hamilton kicked him under the desk.

 

For the second time that day John found himself partaking in deep breathing. “The truth is... Mr Frederick, the truth is...” Oh my god was he actually doing this. “Alexander and I... ...are just two people who weren't supposed to fall in love. But did.” He could practically feel the smugness rolling off the man beside him. _Fuck it._ “We couldn't tell anyone we work with because of my big promotion that I had coming up.”

 

The smugness stuttered. “Promotion?” Hamilton asked through gritted teeth.

 

“We both felt that it would be deeply inappropriate, if I were to be promoted to editor-”

 

“Editor.” There was something oh so satisfying about making Hamilton’s normally composed voice crack.

 

“-while we were dating.”

 

Mr Frederick was clearly unconvinced. “Have the two of you told your parents about your secret love?”

 

Hamilton barked a laugh. “Sorry, not possible. My parents are dead or good as.”

 

“No brothers or sisters either?”

 

“Gone.”

 

And well, if that didn’t break John’s heart just a bit.

 

“Are your parents dead?” This time the question was aimed at him. Hamilton still answered for him.

 

“No, his are very much alive.”

 

“Very much.”

 

Hamilton smiled. “Very much. They're... Well, we were going to tell them this weekend. Gammy's 90th birthday.” For a second John is shocked he remembered about that at all but then, this is Alexander Hamilton. “The whole family's coming together. We thought it'd be a nice surprise.”

 

Mr Frederick scribbled something down. “Where is this surprise going to take place?”

 

“At John's parents' house.”

 

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Where is that located again?”

 

Hamilton’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. “Why am I doing all the talking? It's your parents' house.” He smiled hugely at John. “Why don't you tell him where it is. Pumpkin.”

 

“Sitka.”

 

Hamilton nodded. “Sitka.”

 

“Alaska.”

 

“Alaskaaa…” Hamilton’s head swerved to look at him, and John grinned back. “…aa. Alaska.”

 

The officer raised an eyebrow. “You're gonna go to Alaska this weekend?”

 

“Yeah.” John smiled.

 

“Yes, yes.” Hamilton looked slightly flustered and dammit why was that so satisfying? Alaska, that's where... That's where my little... that's where my John's from.”

 

Mr Frederick shot them one last long look, before he sighed and sat back in his chair. “Fine. I see how this is gonna go. I will see you both at 11.00 Monday morning for your scheduled interview. Your answers better match up on _every_ account.”

 

 

 

 

 

Bizarrely enough, on the way out of the immigrations office, Hamilton didn’t appear to be shook at all. “OK... so, what's going to happen,” He continued, completely calm, “is we’ll go to Alaska. We'll pretend we're boyfriend and girlfriend, tell your parents we're engaged. Use the miles for the tickets.”

 

John stared at him.

 

“Also please make sure I get the vegan meal. Last time they gave it to an actual vegan, and they forced me to eat this clammy, warm, creamy salad thing, which was...” Hamilton, finally, seemed to realise John was just standing there gawking. “Hey, I'm... Why aren't you taking notes?"

 

John held back a laugh. He wasn't sure why exactly but he really needed to laugh. “I'm sorry, were you not in that room?”

 

“What?” Hamilton brow creased for a moment before his eyes widened and he went back to looking at his phone. “Oh! The thing you said about being promoted? Genius. He completely fell for it.”

 

John frowned. “I was serious. I'm looking at a $250,000 fine and five years in _jail_. That changes things.”

 

Hamilton scoffed. “Promote you to editor? No. No way.”

 

“Then I quit, and you're screwed. Bye-bye, Hamilton.”

 

“John!”

 

“It really has been a slice of heaven.” He called over his shoulder as he walked away.

 

“John, John! Fine, fine. I'll make you editor. Fine.”

 

John smiled, and practically skipped back to his boss.

 

“If you do the Alaska weekend and the immigration interview, I will make you editor. Happy?”

 

John squinted slightly. “And not in two years. Right away.”

 

Hamilton sighed loudly. “Fine.”

 

“And you'll publish my manuscript.”

 

John could practically hear him grinding his teeth as he forced out, “Ten thousand copy first-”

 

“Twenty thousand copies, first run. _And_ we'll tell my family about our engagement when I want and how I want.” John paused and tried not to grin. “Now, ask me nicely.”

 

“Ask you nicely what?”

 

“Ask me nicely to marry you.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“You heard me. On your knee.”

 

Hamilton glared at him murderously for almost a full minute. John resolutely did not waver. “Fine.” There was another lengthy pause as he seemed to rethink his whole life before he was bending down on one knee on the sidewalk, face stormy. “Does this work for you?” He looked up at him with a scathing brow raised.

 

John grinned back. “Oh, definitely.”

 

Hamilton’s eyes looked to the heavens momentarily before he spat out, “Willyoumarryme?”

 

John pretended to consider. “No. Say it like you mean it.”

 

“John?” Hamilton said angelically.

 

“Yes, Alexander?”

 

 “Sweet John?”

 

“I'm listening.”

 

“Would you please, with cherries on top, marry me?”

 

John hummed, imitating the considering noise Hamilton often made in the back of his throat. “Okay. I don't appreciate the sarcasm, but I'll do it.”

 

He grinned once more down at his boss before turning and striding down the street. “See you at the airport tomorrow!” He called over his shoulder.

 

John laughed. This could be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am in Germany, backpacking around Europe and yet because I am sick I am sitting inside writing fan fiction about the founding fathers of America.


	2. Chapter 2

John squinted against the sun and pulled down the cover on the aeroplane window. Ever since he had called home to tell his mother that actually yes, he would be coming home this weekend, and would you look at that, he’d be bringing a boyfriend too, he had been in this weird haze. Surely this couldn’t be real. His life couldn’t actually have become _this,_ right?

 

Clearly, his life disagreed, because when he looked to his right he was still sitting on an aeroplane with Alexander Hamilton and he was still incredibly Screwed.

 

Sighing, he tried to pay to attention to the papers he had brought but his eyes were drawn back to Hamilton, who was incessantly bouncing his leg and gripping the armrest so hard he thought it might break.

 

“Are you…” John almost winced at the glare that was shot his way but he forced himself to keep talking. “Are you okay?”

 

“Fine.”

 

He glanced back down the papers. “These are the questions that INS is gonna ask us.” He looked to his right again, where Hamilton ( _Alexander,_ he mentally corrected himself. If they wanted to convince anyone he would have to stop calling his fiancé by his last name) seemed momentarily distracted by the booklet. “The good news is; I know everything about you. The bad news is; you have four days to learn all this about me.”

 

Before he could say any more the papers were snatched out of his hands and his boss was flipping through them with a sceptical expression.

 

“You really know all the answers to these questions about me?”

 

“Scary, isn't it?” John leant back in his seat, trying to ignore the child kicking the back of it.

 

“A little bit.” Hamil- _Alexander_ paused halfway down a page. “What am I allergic to?”

 

 _Ha_. That was an easy one. “Pine nuts.” He paused, “And the full spectrum of human emotion.”

 

Sarcastic as it was, Alexander actually laughed. “Oh, wow, hilarious.” He scanned down the page. “Oh, here's a good one. Do I have any scars?

 

John considered that for a second. “I'm pretty sure you have a tattoo.”

 

Alexander tensed ever so slightly, but played it off with an eye roll. “Oh, you're pretty sure?”

 

John nodded. “I'm pretty sure. Two years ago, your dermatologist called and asked about a Q-switch laser. I Googled a Q-switch laser and found that they, in fact, do remove tattoos. But you cancelled your appointment.” Alexander studied the page intently. “So what is it? Tribal ink? Japanese calligraphy? Barbed wire?”

 

The shorter man shifted in his seat, and sent John a scathing look. “You know, it's so exciting for me to experience you like this.” He commented mockingly.

 

John wasn’t letting the topic slide that easily. He wasn’t exactly sure why, but it was too pleasing to get under the man’s skin. “Thank you. You're gonna have to tell me where it is.”

 

“No I'm not, and we are done with that question.”

 

Slightly perturbed, John grabbed the booklet back. “Fine then. New question.”

 

“Let me see, let me see.” Alexander leaned over his shoulder, and John was suddenly hit with a strong sent of – was that apple? “Oh, here's one. Whose place do we stay at, yours or mine? That's easy. Mine.”

 

John frowned. “And why wouldn't we stay at mine?”

 

That drew a scoff from the other man. “Because I live at Central Park West. And you probably live at some squalid little studio apartment with stacks of old Penguin Classics.”

 

Of course John wanted to argue but the part about the Penguin Classics was disturbingly accurate so he settled for a scowl.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen.” The pleasant voice came over the plane speakers, “Please fasten your seat belts. We are beginning our descent into Juneau.”

 

“Juneau?” Alexander frowned as he wrestled with his seatbelt. John held back a comment about how much he looked like a little kid. “I thought we were going to Sitka.”

 

John grinned. “We are.”

 

He sat back once he had clipped the belt together. “Well, how are we _getting_ to Sitka?”

 

Oh, Alexander was going to love it.

 

 

 

 

 

Incidentally, Alexander did not actually love the tiny budget airline that they were herded onto for the connecting flight.

 

“I’m going to kill you.” He seethed as the plane lurched over another patch of turbulence.

 

John smiled serenely.

 

 

 

 

 

“All right.” John muttered, more to himself than anyone else. Pretend Alexander’s his fiancé to his family. Break the law. He could do this. Easy peasy. “Here we go.”

 

As they climbed off the plane down the rickety steps, he could already hear his mother’s voice. Despite everything, he felt a rush of happiness. He really had missed his mom. “Where? Oh, there he is!”

 

“John!” And there was his Gammy, waving enthusiastically. God he loved them.

 

“Come on!” He called back to Alexander as he picked up into a slight jog. He grinned hugely once he reached them and was immediately swept up into a bone crushing hug by his mother. “Hi!”

 

The woman pulled back and held him at arm’s length, eyes slightly shiny. “It's so good to see you!”

 

“You're suffocating him, Grace.” His grandmother chided her gently, before promptly ignoring her own comment and yanking him down, squeezing the life out of him.

 

“Hey, Gammy.” He smiled into her shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent. “How are you doing?” Why hadn’t he come home in three years? What was he thinking? “Where's Dad?”

 

His mother’s face fell slightly. And oh, that’s right. That’s why he hadn’t come home in three years.

 

“Oh, you know your father.” She waved her hand dismissively with a laugh. John frowned.  “He's always working.”

 

Gammy seemed eager to change the subject. “Never mind about him. Where's your boy?”

 

John was abruptly brought back to reality. He felt a little bad for momentarily forgetting about the other man completely, but he pushed it aside and turned around to look for him. He had to suppress a laugh when he spotted him, unsuccessfully trying to drag his wheeled suitcase through the gravel. “He's... right there.”

 

There was a slightly stunned silence from behind him. He could just imagine his mother’s face as she took in the impeccably dressed, finely groomed man, who’s face was set in a menacing glower.

 

Gammy, clearly trying to think of something to say and falling drastically short, commented, “I guess the word "boy" is inappropriate.” He turned back around to find his grandmother squinting at the approaching figure. “He’s so tiny. Honestly John, I thought you were his assistant. Why don’t you make sure he eats?”

 

 _Great._ He could tell his grandmother was already plotting how to squeeze more calories into Alexander’s meals. He wondered if it was too soon to tell Alexander _welcome to the family!_

 

Once the man reached them he straightened up and pulled the front of his jacket down. “Hello.”

 

His mother broke out of her staring and smiled warmly. “Hi there, I’m Grace.” She bent forward, clearly going for a hug that was cut short by Alexander going for a handshake at the same time. Thankfully his mother didn’t look put off and took his hand in hers. “It’s so nice to meet you. This is John’s grandmother, Annie.”

 

“Hello dear.” Too late, John noticed the twinkle in his grandmother’s eye. “Now, do you prefer being called Alexander or King of Hell? We've heard it both ways. Actually we've heard it lots of ways.”

 

Alexander blinked, and glanced sharply at John. Laughing loudly to cover up his blush he sent his best approximation of Alexander’s Look at his gammy.  “She's kidding. Let’s head out, shall we?”

 

 

 

 

 

They were only twenty minutes into this venture and Alexander wanted out. He was sat in the backseat of a car with John practically purring beside him, chatting with his mother.

 

It was weird. He had never seen his assistant so… at ease.

 

That’s not to say the man looked uncomfortable in New York. Quite the opposite. But all of the determination and intense concentration that made people pay attention (the kind Alexander had always been jealous of, they kind he had to _work_ for) seemed to vanish. Instead he looked _… young_. His freckles had always looked slightly out of place in the city, but here they looked right at home. He looked vibrant, alive. He cleared his throat, looking away.

 

The chatter fell to silence comfortably, and with nothing to distract him Alexander found himself reading shop fronts. Which led to an interesting realisation.

 

 _Laurens Accountants,_ one shop read, another: _Laurens Grocery Store. Laurens Car Repairs, Laurens Hairdressers._ John Laurens. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

 

“John.” He whispered quietly, trying to catch the man’s attention without disturbing the rest of the car. “John. John!”

 

The whispering wasn’t working. Alexander punched him in the arm.

 

“Ow!” John frowned at him.

 

“You didn't tell me about _all_ the family businesses, honey.” He gestured outside to the town with a raised brow.

 

“He was probably just being modest, dear.” Grace’s voice called from the front seat.

 

“Oh.” He tried for a laugh. Judging by John’s face he fell terribly short. In a bid to hide his flushing face he shifted to face the window again, his eyes falling on another Laurens shop. My god. Was there no escape from John bloody Laurens.

 

 

 

 

 

“What are we doing?” Came Alexander’s whispered voice as John hauled their bags out of the boot. John tried not to imagine strangling him. “Shouldn't we check into our hotel?”

 

“Oh, we cancelled your reservation.” His mother called from where she was stood by the dock. “Family doesn't stay at a hotel. You’ll stay in our home.”

 

John watched in slight glee as Alexander tried to school his face into a semblance of happiness. “Oh, great!” He spun back round to face John and hissed, “What!?”

 

Ignoring him, John dropped the last bag to the ground, rubbing his back. “God. You're gonna wanna use your legs to lift that one.” What did that man have in there?

 

“John! Help him with those.” His mother scolded him.

 

“I'd love to, but he won't let me do anything.” He shrugged as he walked over to his mom. “He’s just so independent.” John could feel the hatred rolling off the other man who was desperately kicking at his big suitcase to get it to sit on its wheels. “Come on, sweetie!”

 

Really, John thought Alexander’s face when he saw the second aeroplane was sour. It had nothing on his face now, as he stared at the boat John was chucking his bags into.

 

“I'm not getting on that boat.” He deadpanned.

 

“Okay then. See you in a few days.”

 

John’s grin faltered slightly. Wait… was Alexander shaking? “You know I can't swim.”

 

He wasn’t sure what to say for a few seconds before he shook himself. This was _Alexander Hamilton,_ for Christ’s sake. Fear didn’t even register for him. “Hence, the boat. Come on.”

 

For a second it looked like he might actually be considering staying right there for the weekend. But then he was stepping forward determinedly, placing a foot onto the wooden plank bridging between the land and the dock. He came right back to a halt though, the second his foot was on.

 

“You got this.” John encouraged, slightly mocking and slightly serious, still not 100% sure what was going through his boss’s mind. Taking a deep breath, Alexander made three quick strides in one go, eyeing the water below the plank like it might grow opposable thumbs and grab him. “There we go. Looking good, boss.”

 

“Don’t need your praise, asshole.” He said through gritted teeth, face a little pale. Seeming to come to a silent agreement with himself, he then practically threw himself at the dock for the last few steps, stumbling off the plank.

 

“Congratulations. I'm a hundred years old.” John said, not sure what to say besides the banter he had grown used to. Thankfully, Alexander seemed grateful for the normalcy and he tugged down the front of his jacket.

 

He was completely silent for the whole boat ride, perched in a corner in a life jacket.

 

Once they were safely off the boat and walking up the jetty, Alexander’s eyes cleared, and then promptly widened as he took in John’s childhood home. “That is your _home_?”

 

John had to admit, his house was pretty impressive. Well, more of a mansion really, sprawling across a beautiful Alaskan woodland estate. Still, he didn’t really think of it as home. Not anymore.

 

“Why did you tell me you were poor?” Alexander demanded.

 

John shrugged. “I never said I was poor.”

 

“But you never told me you were rich.” He persisted, still struggling with that stupidly heavy case.

 

“I'm not rich. My parents are rich.”

 

That was met by a loud groan. “Oh shut up. That's something only rich people say.”

 

John was distracted from answering by a voice calling out, “Hey, John! Welcome home!”

 

He glanced up to find Allison Green waving at him from the garden of their house.

 

The very crowded garden.

 

“Hi!” he called back, before turning to his mother. “Mom, what is this?”

 

His mother grinned. “Nothing. It's just a little welcoming party. Is that a crime?”

 

His grandmother, who was powering on ahead, shouted back, “Just 50 of our closest friends and neighbours. And all excited to meet you, Alexander.”

 

Alexander looked grim. “Oh, good.”

 

“Come on.” John picked up the pace, excited to see his old friends despite the circumstances. “My grandma's moving faster than you. Put your back into it.”

 

Alexander kicked him. Again.

 

 

 

 

 

“So nice to meet you, Alexander.” Mrs Dastoor was shaking Alexander’s hand with a warm smile. Alexander’s answering smile wasn’t exactly _warm,_ per say, but John would take what he could get. “Welcome to Sitka.”

 

“Thank you. It’s so nice to be here.”

 

The second they walked through the door, they had been swamped by several people, all clearly wanting to meet the boy John had brought home. Said boy looked drastically uncomfortable.

 

They made polite conversation with Mrs Dastoor for a while before she was moving off and about five more groups bombarded them with introductions. After the last, Alexander very determinedly yanked him into a corner.

 

“Why didn't you tell me you were a minor celebrity around here?” He demanded, eyes flitting around the room anxiously.

 

“How could I?” John grumbled. He wasn’t a minor celebrity. That was an over exaggeration. “We were in the middle of talking about _you_ for the last three years.”

 

His boss sighed. “Okay, you know what? Timeout.” The shorter man tucked a piece of long hair that had fallen loose behind his ear. “This bickering thing has to stop. People need to think we're in love.”

 

John scoffed. “Oh, that's no problem. I can do that. I can pretend to be the doting fiancé, easy. But for you, it's gonna require that you stop snacking on children.”

 

Alexander’s lip curled into a sneer. “Very funny. Also, when are you going to tell them we're engaged?”

 

“I'll pick the right moment, okay?”

 

The conversation was interrupted by his old high school teacher and her husband, making a beeline towards them.

 

“Hey, John. Hi!”

 

“Mrs McKittrick. Nice to see you. And you, Mr McKittrick.” The pair were clearly uninterested with pleasantries, though, their eyes fixed on the fidgeting man beside John. The fidgeting thing was a new development. John had never seen his boss outside of his comfort zone, but clearly the man didn’t enjoy not being in control. “This is Alexander.”

 

The woman stretched out her hand and Alexander shook it, if somewhat reluctantly. “Hi. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

 

“You, as well.”

 

“So I always wanted to know, what does a book editor do?” Mr McKittrick asked with folded arms, looking genuinely interested. The next voice that came, though, was definitely not.

 

“That's a great question, Louise.” Henry Laurens sauntered over, a sceptical look on his face. “I'm curious to know the answer myself.”

 

“Hello, Dad.” He greeted tightly.

 

“Son.” His father craned his neck around his shoulder. John almost jumped out of the way in shock – he hadn’t even realised but he had stepped in front of Alexander protectively the second he spotted his father. “This must be Alex.”

 

“Alexander.” The short man corrected, smiling sharply.

 

“Henry. Pleasure to meet you.”

 

Alexander took the man’s outstretched hand, shaking it once. “Pleasure's mine.”

 

“So why don't you tell us exactly what a book editor does.” The man smirked. “Besides reading and taking writers out to lunch.”

 

Mrs McKittrick laughed, none the wiser to the growing tension. “Now that sounds like fun. No wonder you like being an editor.”

 

John’s father looked like a shark that had just smelled blood. “No, Louise. John's not an editor, he's an editor's assistant. Alex here is the editor.”

 

“Alexander.” He corrected again, not smiling this time.

 

The woman’s eyes widened in realisation. “So you're actually...”

 

“John's boss.” Henry finished for her. “Yeah.”

 

“Well. How about that.” Mr McKittrick shifted slightly, obviously slightly more clued into the situation than his wife.

 

Henry waved his empty glass. “I think I'll get a refill.” And he was gone again, the McKittricks dispersing with him.

 

John could feel Alexander’s stare burning into the side of his face. “Charming.”

 

He ignored the comment, choosing instead to storm after his father. He found the man by the scotch, pouring himself a measure. “That's a hell of a first impression, Dad.”

 

Any pretences of niceties fell away from the older man’s face. “What the hell, John? You show up after all this time with this guy you hated, and now he’s your boyfriend?”

 

John groaned. “We just got here. Can we wait two seconds before we throw the kitchen sink at each other?”

 

“Just never figured you for a guy who slept his way to the middle.”

 

John felt a rush of resentment cloud through his head and he ground his teeth. _Don’t get angry, don’t get angry._ “I'll have you know that that man in there is one of the most respected editors-”

 

His father shook his head, and when he spoke his voice was full of judgement. “He’s your meal ticket, and you brought him home to meet your mother.”

 

“No, no.” _Fuck_ not getting angry. “He’s not my meal ticket, Dad. He’s my fiancé.”

 

His father froze. “What'd you say?”

 

“You heard me.” Yeah, bite that, _Dad._ “I'm getting married.”

 

He spun around, anger still pumping his blood faster, adrenaline making him stupid. “Hey, excuse me, everyone!” The room quieted and he strode into the middle, searching for Alexander. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have a very important announcement to make. Alexander and I are getting married.”

 

There were a few gasps, a few shocked looks. Thankfully, several smiles.

 

“Yep. Honey? Where are you?”

 

After more searching, he finally spotted Alexander, the man’s head poking around a doorway like a startled deer.

 

“Here he is. Come on down here, pumpkin.”

 

Alexander looked epically uncomfortable as he inched his way towards John. Someone started clapping and soon there was an applause going around, some people whistling and hollering.

 

“All right.” Weirdly enough, now Alexander was next to him, his anger had completely disappeared and he was left not sure what to say. “Okay.”

 

“Congratulations, John.” Someone called out.

 

“Thank you. Thank you very much.” Thankfully, the room seemed to take this as their cue to go back to their conversations.

 

“So this was your idea of the perfect time to tell them we're engaged?” Alexander whispered from beside him, a smile plastered on his face.

 

“John? Hi.”

 

John was momentarily distracted from Alexander’s question by the voice. He whipped his head around and was immediately hit by a tirade of emotion.

 

“Eliza? Oh, my God.” He pulled the girl into a hug, his stomach a mess. “Hi. Wow. How you doing? I didn't know that you were gonna be here.”

 

Eliza smiled, her delicate features blossoming at the action. “Your mom probably wanted it to be a surprise. So... surprise.”

 

John nodded. “Right.”

 

Eliza’s eyes widened as he glanced to John’s left. “Oh, we're being completely rude. Hi.”

 

John was snapped out of his staring by the memory of his _fiancé._ “Oh, ah, right. This is my ex...”

 

“Hi. I'm Elizabeth.” She interrupted smoothly, holding a delicate hand out to Alexander.

 

The man’s eyes widened and darted between the two. He quickly shook her hand. “Oh, wow. Right.”

 

“You can call me Eliza. Congratulations, you guys. Did I miss the story?”

 

“What story?” John and Alexander both asked.

 

“About how you proposed.” She supplied, like it was obvious.

 

“How a man proposes says a lot about his character.” Since when did his gammy become part of this conversation?

 

“Yes, it does.” Someone else agreed.

 

Great.

 

“I actually would love to hear the story, John.” His mother smiled at him from the couch. “Would you tell us?”

 

A chorus of _yeah!_ ’s went around the room and John floundered for a minute. They didn’t have a story, they hadn’t planned for this. “You know what? Alexander actually loves telling this story, so I'm just gonna let him go ahead and do that.” He patted the man on the shoulder before sitting down on the couch beside his mother. Alexander pulled the front of his jacket down in a move John was realising was a nervous habit. He had never had to consider it before because he couldn’t think of a single point before this weekend when he had seen Alexander nervous. “I think we should just sit in rapture.”

 

Alexander eyed their audience and cleared his throat. “Wow, okay.” He cleared his throat again. “Wow, where to begin... this story.” John suppressed a laugh. “Yes, okay, well... John and I... John and I were about to celebrate our first anniversary together. And I knew that he'd been itching to ask me to marry him. And he was scared. Like a little tiny bird.” Hold on a minute. “So I started leaving him hints here and there because I knew he wouldn't have the guts to ask, but...”

 

“That's not exactly how it happened.” John interrupted, raising an eyebrow at the man.

 

Alexander tilted his head, a tiny smirk playing on his lips. “No?”

 

“No. I mean, I picked up on all his ‘hints’. This man’s about as subtle as a gun.” The room laughed and Alexander’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah. What I was worried about was that he might find this little box-”

 

“Oh!” Alexander cut in, hands on his hips. “The decoupage box that he made! He'd taken the time to cut out tiny, little pictures of himself.” At the _aaw_ ’s from John’s mother Alexander nodded solemnly. “Yes. Just pasted all over the box. So beautiful. So I opened that beautiful, little decoupage and out fluttered these tiny, little hand-cut heart confettis.” John was going to kill him. “And once they cleared, I looked down, and I saw the most beautiful, big-”

 

“Fat nothing.” John cut him off again. Alexander was full on smirking now. For some reason John was having a hard time looking at him. “No ring.”

 

“No ring?” Came his grandmother’s confused voice.

 

“No. But inside that box, underneath all that crap, there was a little handwritten note with the address to a hotel, date, and time. No bullshitting, straight to the point.” The shorter man looked like he was suppressing an eye roll. “Anyway, naturally, Alexander thought...”

 

“I thought he was seeing someone else.” That drew some gasps from the audience. Alexander looked sincere but John just _knew_ underneath that he was smug as hell.

 

“What?” Eliza had a hand on her mouth.

 

“Yeah, it was a terrible time for me, but I went to that hotel anyway. I went there and I pounded on the door, but the door was already unlocked. And as I swung open that door, there he was-”

 

“Standing-”

 

“Kneeling-”

 

“Like a man-”

 

“On a bed of rose petals, in a tuxedo. And he was choking back soft, soft sobs. And when he held back the tears and finally caught his breath, he said to me-”

 

“‘Alexander, will you marry me?’ And he said, ‘Yep.’ The end.” He blurted out quickly before any more damage could be done. “Who's hungry?”

 

At least his mother looked happy. “Oh, John! That’s so lovely. You’re so sensitive.”

 

“Hand-cut confetti?” Gammy snorted. Alexander gave another sincere nod.

 

“Hey! Let's see a kiss from you two.” John was going to hunt down whoever said that and kill them.

 

“Oh, yeah! Give him a kiss.” His grandmother clapped her hands excitedly.

 

“No. Come on.” John waved his hands in distress. Alexander looked equally horrified.

 

“Come on!”

 

“Okay, all right.” He got off the couch and Alexander looked at him like he’d grown two heads. Rolling his eyes, John grabbed his hand and placed a kiss to the back of it. “There, happy?”

 

“Dude!”

 

“Kiss him on the mouth.”

 

There was _definitely_ more people watching now than had been for the proposal story. John inwardly groaned as someone started up a ‘Kiss him’ chant.

 

“Just do it.” Alexander muttered.

 

“Okay, everybody, okay.” He glanced back at the shorter man who now looked like he was preparing himself for war.

 

He ducked his head down quickly, almost clashing foreheads with the man as he moved closer too. Not reading too far into why his heart was in his throat, John pressed their lips together. Alexander was as receptive as a brick wall and neither left enough time to even close their eyes before they were pulling away.

 

John wanted to die when the crowd booed loudly.

 

“John!” His grandmother chastised him from the couch. “Give him a _real_ kiss!”

 

“Gammy-”

 

“A real one!” She insisted.

 

John thought he heard Alexander mutter “Oh, fuck it”, and that was really all the warning he got before the man was grabbing his shirt collar and hauling him down to kiss him.

 

His heart was going at about a million miles a minute and he was abruptly very aware of _everything_ – the cat calls around them, the dark hair that was tickling his cheek, the fact that Alexander was on his _tip toes to kiss him-_

But then John’s brain promptly short circuited because Alexander’s head shifted slightly and their lips were sliding against each other. John had never really thought about it before but Alexander’s lips were _soft._ He inhaled sharply through his nose and was flooded with the damn apples and he found his eyes slipping shut. He kissed back hesitantly and was rewarded with the man opening his mouth slightly, the sensation fogging his brain. He vaguely registered Alexander’s hands tightening on his shirt before they both became very aware they were still kissing and pulled apart.

 

Alexander wrenched his hands back quickly and looked at the ground, but not before John saw the pink flush on his cheeks. And damn, why was that _pretty_?

 

John was brought back to the present by the cheers of the crowd and someone – he was pretty sure it was his grandmother – yelling to crack open the champagne.

 

Right, duh. It was a performance.

 

_Get your head screwed on, Laurens._

He glanced sideways at Alexander. Honestly, he had gone three years hardly noticing his mouth, and now it seemed like the only thing he could see.

 

God, he was screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still in Berlin but very Not Sick life is good fam 
> 
> Also this got so many comments/kudos catch me weeping guys


	3. Chapter 3

“Here we are.” John’s mother was grinning hugely at them – too hugely for Alexander’s liking. “This is your bedroom.”

 

The woman was clearly proud of the space. Not that he was judging, it was a lovely room. Like the rest of the house it was strewn in cosy pillows and rugs, all in earthy reds and browns. She reached down to fluff a pillow on the bed – the _one_ bed.

 

“Wow.” Alexander supplied, not really sure what else to say. This whole ordeal was turning out to be a lot more stressful than he had planned for.

 

“And here's the bed.” Annie grinned and flourished a hand towards it – like they could have missed the thing.

 

“Wow.” He said again. “Exquisite bed. Exquisite.” Annie was still all teeth. “So. Where’s John's room?”

 

Grace laughed. “Oh, we're not under any illusions that you two don't sleep in the same bed. He'll sleep in here with you.”

 

“Oh, great, 'cause we just,” Alexander swallowed, “love to snuggle. Don't we, honey.”

 

John fixed him with a side eye. “We're huge snugglers.”

 

Fortunately – or unfortunately – Alexander was spared of finding something else to say when a blur of white shot through the door and started yapping at him.

 

“Oh, my God.” He lunged behind John. “What is it?”

 

“Calm down, Kevin.” Grace said sternly to the thing.

 

Then, to Alexander’s acute dismay, John picked up the hairy rat and started cooing at it. “You are _cute_. Who’s this?”

 

“That's Kevin.” Grace seemed to notice the five metre berth he was giving the dog. “I'm sorry, Alexander. We just rescued him from the pound. He's still in training.”

 

“Don’t you worry about that.” John smirked at him. “These two will get on just _fine_.”

 

“Just be sure you don't let him outside, or the eagles'll snatch him.” Annie cackled in the way only women over seventy can.

 

“No, don't you listen to her.” Oh great. His fiancé was talking to a dog. “She's just pulling your leg, isn't she?”

 

“Oh also, there are extra towels and linens and things in here if you need them.” John’s mother gestured to a cabinet on the wall. At this, Annie’s eyes lit up and she shot over to the cabinet with remarkable speed.

 

“If you get chilly tonight use this.” She said ominously, pulling out an old patchwork quilt. “It has special powers.”

 

Alexander cautiously accepted the blanket from her. It didn’t look too harmless. “What kind of special powers?”

 

“I call it the Love Maker.”

 

He promptly flung the blanket at John, resisting the urge to wipe his hands. “Oh, well then. We’ll just, ah.”

 

John stared down at the blanket in thinly disguised horror. “Yeah, I'm gonna...”

 

He moved across the room and- “Don't throw it on the bed!” threw it on the bed.

 

Alexander sighed.

 

“We'd better turn in.” Grace smiled again. Alexander’s cheeks screamed in protest as he mustered one last smile in reply. “It's been quite an evening. So good night, everybody.”

 

 

 

 

 

Alexander paused where he was drying his face. John was in the bedroom, hopefully doing as he was told and making a bed on the floor.

 

He had originally taken a shower as a plan to calm himself down. However, once he was actually standing there in the steam he couldn’t help but feel… relaxed? Of course, his primary emotion was panic. But John’s family – excluding his father – had all been so kind. He genuinely couldn’t remember the last time he had been so welcomed anywhere. And the way they acted towards John…

 

“So,” he called through the door, hands clenched in the towel. “You haven't been home in a while.”

 

There was a pause. “I haven't had a lot of vacation time the last three years.”

 

Alexander snorted. “Stop complaining.”

 

It was then that he remembered the reason for his initial pause. He looked down at his pyjamas and resisted groaning. “Don't look, okay?”

 

“Okay?”

 

“Are your eyes closed?”

 

“Completely.”

 

Alexander put his hand on the doorknob. “Are you _sure_?”

 

“Yes, I'm sure.”

 

“Okay.” He muttered to himself. Taking a deep breath, he shoved the door open and darted across the room, diving onto the bed and burrowing under the covers.

 

“Those are the pyjamas you decided to bring to Alaska.” Came John’s voice – thankfully from a makeshift bed on the floor.

 

Alexander sighed and glanced down at his clothes. They were very nice actually – albeit very small – a matching green silk singlet top and shorts. He told his face to stop heating up. “Yes. Because I was supposed to be in a hotel room. _Alone_.”

 

John sighed slightly louder than Alexander had. “Can we just go to sleep?”

 

“Fine.” He snapped back.

 

“Great.”

 

“Fantastic.”

 

“Amazing.”

 

 

 

 

 

He was jerked awake by the sound of his ringing phone.

 

“John. Phone.” He croaked out, already stumbling out of bed and hunting for his mobile through squinted eyes.

 

John, the bastard, remained sound asleep. “John!”

 

He swore as he wacked his toe against the bedside table. He was far too asleep for this shit. “Crap. John. John, phone. John!”

 

Finally, John groaned and rolled over.

 

“John, where is it?”

 

“Briefcase, side pocket.”

 

Alexander lunged for the briefcase and prised the phone from the pocket. His stomach lurched upon seeing James’ name on the display. He hurried to slide across the green button. “Hello. Hello?”

 

John groaned again. “James! James, darling.” All he got from the other end of the line was a series of crackles. “Are you there? Hello? Hello? Oh, crap.” Throwing dignity to the wing, he clambered onto a table and started shouting into the receiver. “I have horrible service, James. Give me just one minute.”

 

John seemed to snap, throwing the pillow he was previously holding over his ears across the room at Alexander. “Oh, my God. Alexander!”

 

He glared back at him viscously. However, not wanting to wake the rest of the house, he pitched his voice into a whisper. “One minute. James, hold on just a second.”

 

Expecting the tiled floors of the house to be freezing, he was momentarily grateful for rich people being able to afford underfloor heating. He bolted through the house, shoving his arms into a dressing gown along the way. “James, hold on. No, no, no, no.”

 

James’ voice was still crackly, but the closer he got the backyard the clearer he could hear his voice. And he was not liking what he was hearing. “James. James, I'm sorry you feel I pressured you into doing Oprah, but...”

 

“But what?” Came the sniffled reply as Alexander scurried through the backdoor into the yard. “But you don’t think my happiness matters?”

 

“Of _course_ I want you to be happy.”

 

“What if I’m traumatised for life? I can barely talk to the postman without crying and-“

 

“James. James, darling. It's going to be fine. I can just call them and I can cancel.”

 

“I just don’t understand why you pressured me into in the first place and…”

 

Whatever James was saying was lost on Alexander, because that white rat, the fluffy demon _Kevin_ was scampering out the back door and charging towards him.

 

“ _Get away from me,”_ he hissed as quietly as he could. Kevin advanced and began yapping. “You are... you are so right, James.”

 

“Are you even listening to me?”

 

“Yes, James, of course I'm listening to you.” Alexander searched desperately for something to throw at it. It’s beady black eyes glistened menacingly. “I love listening to you, James.”

 

Alexander was _not_ afraid of dogs. In fact, he had grown up with a large number of strays and he found dogs to normally be quite lovely. However, this – this imposter was no dog. He schooled his face into a stern frown. “Sit. Sit. No, not you, James.”

 

James was now indignant.

 

“No, no. James, if I may get down to it, okay, I think it would be a mistake to back out.” Alexander grinned smugly when the dog stopped yapping. “Because, James, for so many years, you have inspired me with your beautiful words, and I feel that...”

 

This was not Alexander’s day. The dog had stopped barking, but now it was whimpering.

 

“I think it's time the world gets to enjoy your words as well.”

 

_What the fuck was it whimpering at?_

Alexander turned around and craned his neck. It certainly wasn’t whimpering at hi-

 

Oh no. That’s what it was whimpering at.

 

“They are just so rich with passion,” It was a mother fucking _eagle,_ “and I think that we should all be privy to...”

 

What was that Gammy had said about the eagles and Kevin? “And... James,”

 

Alexander watched, frozen, as the eagle actually _swooped,_ and started nosediving towards Kevin. “I just...”

 

What does someone _do_ in this situation? He couldn’t just let the bloody eagle take the dog. “I just…”

 

Oh my god, Gammy would hate him. And dammit, Grace loved that dog, “I want you to be happy, James.”

 

_Oh fuck_ , he thought as the eagles claws closed around the terrified ball of fluff, _John loves that piece of shit._ “Give me that dog! I need, James, for you to hold on just a second. Can you hold a second?” He sprinted after the bird that had now taken off into the air with its struggling captive. “Give me that dog!”

 

Alexander groaned to himself before he gritted his teeth and flung his phone at the bird. It squawked and, thank fuck, dropped the dog. Alexander sprinted over and gripped the flailing white mess in his arms. He then ran over to his phone, pressing it to his ear. James was now crying.

 

“James, James? I’m so sorry, so sorry. I dropped the phone.” He swore violently in his mind. The eagle was still circling. He started speed-walking back to the door.

 

“Now, listen, James. I don't want to sell you on anything, but this is your legacy, this book. And I think it's up to you to present your legacy to the world.” _Oh my god why was the eagle swooping at him now help_ \- “You can call me tomorrow with your decision. Wait – no!”

 

He had flung his arms up to protect _fucking Kevin_ and the eagle had clearly smelt his weakness and snatched his phone from his hand.

 

Alexander’s life was a fucking joke. “No! No, no, no.”

 

He looked down at the writhing thing in his arms. After a moment’s consideration, he hoisted it into the air. “Take the doggy! Look at the doggy. I need that phone. Take the dog.” The eagle wasn’t buying it and was steadily disappearing into the distance. “No! Here. Take the dog!”

 

“What the hell are you doing?”

 

Alexander jumped a foot into the air. He was too panicked to even be embarrassed when he registered John standing behind him with a raised brow.

 

“John! Your grandmother was completely right.” He blabbered quickly. “The eagle came and tried to take the dog, but then I saved him, but then it came back, and it took my phone.”

 

John blinked. “Are you drunk?”

 

“What? No! I'm serious. He's got my phone, and,” and oh _shit,_ _“_ James is _calling_ me on that phone.”

 

John looked slightly exasperated and slightly like he was holding back a grin. “Relax, all right? We'll order another phone, same number. We'll go into town and get it.”

 

Alexander hesitated. “Really?”

 

John nodded. Alexander looked down at the squirming dog in his arms. His panic was steadily disappearing and being replaced by mortification. “Oh. Okay. All right.” He gingerly placed the dog on the ground. “Well, you can go then.”

 

When he straightened John was watching him with a full blown grin, that Alexander desperately wanted to melt into the ground. “You have to get ready.”

 

He frowned. “For what?”

 

“Going out with Mom and the girls.”

 

Why was John _smirking_ now.

 

“I don't wanna go.”

 

“Shopping, sightseeing. And a _surprise_.”

 

“I hate shopping. I hate sightseeing.” He didn’t actually _hate_ them, but he definitely did not want to spend extended periods of time with the wonderful family he was actively lying to.

 

“You'll love it. You're going.”

 

“I don't want to _go_. I'm not.”

 

“You are. Now give me a hug.” From the look on his face John could tell he was seconds close to death. He gestured quickly with his eyes to the big kitchen window where Annie and Grace – without an ounce of subtlety – were watching them. “Don't want them to think we're fighting.”

 

John reached out a hand and grabbed the front of Alexander’s pyjamas.

 

“I don't want to touch you. No, I-”

 

“Come on. Hug time.” John replied in a sing-song voice.

 

“I don't wanna-” John wrapped his arms around his shoulders tightly. Alexander’s face was smushed completely into John’s chest. He couldn’t decide if the sensation was frustrating or comforting but the second option was much more alarming so he went with the first. He very resolutely kept his arms by his sides. “John.”

 

“There we go. Isn't that nice?”

 

Alexander made eye contact with Annie and smiled warmly. “Hug me again,” he muttered, “and I’ll cut your balls off in your sleep. Okay?”

 

He received one last pat on the back before John was stepping back with a wry smile. “Okay.”

 

“Yeah.” Alexander reached up a hand and patted his face affectionately. The action made a satisfying slapping noise. “Such a good fiancé.”

 

 

 

 

 

John picked his way slowly along the shore. His mother had bustled over to him earlier with a too-eager smile on her face, and told him his father wanted to talk to him. He could see the man now, swinging a golf club with an expert stroke at a floating island in the lake. He sighed and steeled himself for whatever mood his father was in.

 

“You wanted to see me?”

 

His father looked up, clearly not having heard him coming. After a moment of silence, he nodded and glanced down at his golf club.

 

“Your mom found these eco-balls, they dissolve in water.” He huffed a laugh. John waited. He was used to these convoluted segues into whatever his father actually wanted to talk about. “I don't know how she comes up with this stuff.” He paused again, and swung another shot. The ball fell slightly wide. “Anyway, she’s a little peeved. Apparently, I wasn't the most gracious of hosts last night.” Another swing. “It was a little bit of a shock to find out that you're getting married.” He looked back over his shoulder at John with a ‘what can you do?’ expression. John gritted his teeth. “Especially when none of us even knew you were dating. The point is... I owe you an apology.”

 

The terse response on the tip of John’s tongue froze. He blinked. He couldn’t remember the last time his father had apologised. For anything. He studied the man’s face for a few moments, and the calloused hand that had been offered to shake. Of course, he knew there must be a catch, but for now, John just sighed. “Accepted.” He gripped the hand firmly, saw the faint glimmer of approval in the man’s eyes that he was so tired of still craving.

 

“There's something else.”

 

And there it was. His father seemed to ignore or not notice his son tensing.

 

“I've been going over my retirement plans recently, and it got me thinking. I've done a lot of things in my life. Practically built an empire with your mother from the ground up.” He paused for effect. He really didn’t need to. John had heard this speech a hundred fucking times already. “It doesn't mean anything unless-”

 

“You have someone to leave it to.” John growled out. “Yeah, we've already discussed this-”

 

“I'd like to discuss it again.” Henry raised his voice. John hadn’t flinched at that since he was sixteen but his head clouded with the anger that had replaced the fear for the last ten years. “You have responsibilities here. I think I've been more than understanding about your goofing off in New York. I need you to quit playing around-”

 

“Here we go again.” John resisted the urge to groan – he was an _adult_ for Christ’s sake. “When are you going to start taking what I do seriously?”

 

“When you start acting seriously.”

 

“I'm sorry.” He snapped. “I feel sorry for you, Dad. I wish you had another son. I really do. One who wanted to stay here. One who wanted to take over the business. One who wanted to marry someone that you approve of, but it's not me. Now, it must seem strange to you, my life in New York... sitting in an office, reading books. But it makes me happy. You understand?”

 

His father nodded to himself and turned back to the golf ball he had placed on the mark. “If that's what makes you happy, son, I got nothing to say.”

 

“Well, that's a first. You know what? I take it back - apology not accepted.” He flexed his hands out of the fists that had formed as he stalked back towards the house. “Have fun out here.”

 

 

 

 

 

Alexander was not over-exaggerating; he had absolutely no idea what was going on.

 

Annie and Grace had shunted him into clothes, and then they were off down the down the road. They were now sat in a small cosy bar facing a stage, which he had been eying suspiciously since they walked in.

 

He clutched his beer to his chest and scanned the room in alarm. He was pretty sure every woman in the local area was in the bar – at ten o’clock in the morning no less. _What the hell was this place._

 

Grace laughed at something Eliza had said (because yes, he was sitting at a table with his fake-fiance’s mother, grandmother and ex-girlfriend. This was his life), and leaned over to Alexander. “I hope you’re ready for your big surprise. This is one of Sitka's _greatest_ treasures.” She glanced at Eliza with a grin. “Right?”

 

Eliza giggled into the back of her hand. “Oh, yes. Definitely.”

 

Before he could get out a single word – or terrified scream – the lights shuttered off and a single spotlight illuminated a chair in the middle of the stage. And then… was that-

 

_I challenge you to a dance off, hands off, no trash talk no back walk…_

Music started blaring from the speakers and then a man in nothing but bright purple leggings was whipping back the curtains and striding onto stage.

 

This was not what Alexander was expecting.

 

“Lafayette’s the only French dancer on the island,” Annie called over the music. Lafayette did a very pointed hip thrust to the music and John’s Gammy honest to god _whooped._ “We're lucky to have him.”

 

Alexander wasn’t sure what to say. “Wow.”

 

“Over here, Lafayette! Over here.” Grace waved her hands and Lafayette practically leapt through the air with a grin over to their table. “This one’s getting married!”

 

Alexander’s head whipped towards Grace. “Oh, that’s-” Lafayette made a cooing noise and held his hand out to Alexander. “It's a really nice gesture, but I really need to just...” His complaints were duly ignored and next thing he knew he was being hauled onto stage. “All right. Here we go.” The man directed him into the chair.

 

“Don’t worry.” Lafayette – and wow, he really was French – whispered into his ear. “It’s just fun. Look at all the laughter, no? Isn’t it fun?”

 

“Go, Alexander!” Eliza cheered from the table.

 

Despite everything, Alexander found himself genuinely laughing as Lafayette spun him through five minutes of what he would normally consider Hell. He was deposited back into his chair with a huge grin on his face and a strangely warm feeling in his chest. He looked around at John’s family, who were laughing loudly and cheering for him.

 

He decided the warm feeling was probably just the strange blue cocktail they had made him drink when they first arrived.

 

After a few more minutes Alexander excused himself and climbed his way outside. There was a porch area overlooking the water and for once the sight of the huge mass of blue was a welcome change.

 

Despite that he definitely didn’t go over near the banister, instead leaning against the wall next to the door. He took in a deep breath and tipped his head back.

 

He wasn’t an idiot; he knew full well he was having fun. He actually liked these people and they didn’t hate him, so of course he was. But that was dangerous. He didn’t know how to like people, and he certainly didn’t know how to _keep_ people liking him. Not to mention these were people he _couldn’t_ get close to. They were John’s _family,_ John’s _friends,_ John’s –

 

“Hey.”

 

Alexander jumped slightly, and lurched out of his thoughts to find Eliza closing the door behind her.

 

“Uh, hey.”

 

Eliza took one look at his expression and laughed lightly. Her laugh was always so gentle, like her body couldn’t bear to make anything loud or brash. “How are you holding up?”

 

“Oh, fine. Fine.”

 

“Yeah, the Laurens’ can be a bit overwhelming at times.”

 

Alexander found himself smiling. “Yes.”

 

“It's a little different than New York, huh?”

 

“Ha. Just a bit. You ever been?”

 

“No.” She shook her head, a few dark curls falling across her cheeks. “That was always John's dream, not mine.”

 

Alexander shifted. It was none of his business, it was none of his business… “You guys were pretty serious, huh?”

 

Eliza made a considering noise. “We dated in high school and all through college, but…” she smiled, “we were kids.”

 

None of his – _oh, fuck it._ “And you guys called it off because...”

 

Eliza leant against the wall beside him, gazing out to the water “Well... the night before we graduated school, he proposed.” He tried to hide his shock. Judging from her smile, he failed miserably. “Said he wanted to elope and run away to New York with me.” She shrugged. “And I said no. I've never been anywhere but here. This is home.” She smiled again and peered at Alexander kindly. “But anyway... you're a lucky guy. He really is the best. Which you obviously already know.”

 

“Oh, yes. Very much so.” For the first time that day, he actually had to force a smile. “Yeah.”

 

 

 

 

 

Annie and Grace laughed quietly a few paces ahead of Alexander as they ambled along the pier towards the house. They were discussing Lafayette, apparently the man was a bit of a mystery, but still much beloved by the whole island.

 

“Oh, no.”

 

Alexander looked up from his feet in concern at Annie’s voice. He followed her concerned gaze along the shoreline to a figure swinging a pick over their head. He realised with a start that it was John, and he was driving the pick into a huge wooden block.

 

“John!” John’s mother called out with her hands cupped around her mouth. “John, honey, is everything okay?”

 

“What's he doing?” Alexander asked. He was trying to focus on his curiosity about John’s mood rather than the way his back muscles rippled under his shirt.

 

“Something's up. It's best to leave him alone.” Annie smiled weakly and ushered him away. “Come on, honey.”

 

The three of them made their way up to the house in silence. Grace’s normally gentle smile was gone and she seemed to be forging a warpath ahead of Annie and Alexander.

 

Once they reached the front door Annie magically disappeared, and Alexander was forced to trail behind Grace as she stormed into the living room. His stomach churned uncomfortably when he spotted Henry Laurens lounged on the couch, a wrestling match blaring from the TV screen. Grace seemed to have no such feelings and immediately pressed the power on the screen and positioned herself in front of it with folded arms.

 

“Hey! What are you doing?” Henry frowned at her. “I'm watching that.”

 

“Why is John out there hollowing out that old stupid canoe again?” Grace demanded.

 

Henry snorted and shifted in his seat. He looked alarmingly like a kid who had been called to the principal’s office. “Maybe he's planning to escape.” Grace let out a frustrated groan. “What?”

 

Now exceptionally self-conscious, Alexander decided to attempt an escape. “I, uh, think I'm gonna go upstairs, take a shower. Wash off Lafayette’s coconut body oil.”

 

Grace’s head whipped towards him like she had forgotten he was there. She smiled kindly at him. “Of course sweetheart.”

 

Not sure why he felt the need to say it, he blurted out, “I had a great day today. Thank you.” Before he cut a hasty retreat towards the kitchen.

 

He paused briefly by the fridge as John’s parent’s voices floated through.

 

“What did you do?”

 

“I didn't do anything. I mean, I just had a frank conversation with him about his future.”

 

“Oh, yeah. That's a good idea.” Grace’s incredulous laugh rang through the house. “That's a great idea, Henry, because he will _never_ come back home now. He is my _son_. I only get to see him every three years because of you. Because of _you_. I've had enough. You are going to be supportive of him marrying Alexander, and that is that.”

 

There was a pause and Alexander started to pad quietly towards the stairs.

 

“You know Henry, if we're not careful, we are gonna end up in this great big house, just you and me alone. You and me and everything that we're angry about. And God forbid that they should have a _grandchild_ that we never get to see. You are going to fix this, Henry. I mean it. Fix it now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guuuuuuuyyysssssssssss so much love god damn
> 
> (btw thank u guys for askin bout my sickness I'm a healed panther rn and I'm in france!! i been to brussels amsterdam and budapest since last update fam its wild woo hoo)  
> (double btw sorry took so long to update my grandma died this week mucho sad boi (I'm not good with emotes but trust i am sad))
> 
> this doesn't make much sense I have not slept for a long time oh help if i remember i will change this


	4. Chapter 4

Alexander sighed and turned the shower tap off. He had been joking about Lafayette’s coconut body lotion, but he definitely felt – and smelt – a lot better than he had before the shower.

 

He tiptoed out of the cubicle, eyes searching for a towel.

 

Shit.

 

“Where's a towel?” He muttered, spinning around and scanning the room. He huffed loudly when all he could find was a fluffy glove. He patted at his face with it fruitlessly. “Can’t dry myself with this…”

 

A loud thud sounded from the bedroom and he froze, blinking. “Hello?” When there was no reply he shrugged, steeling himself for the cold and cracking open the door to the bedroom. Grace had said something about a cupboard with towels and- “No, _nonono_.”

 

Mother. Fucking. Kevin.

 

It had positioned itself right in the doorway, forcing Alexander back into the bathroom. “Just... I'm sorry. Let me just...”

 

He groaned loudly in frustration. The menace barked loudly and he hurried towards the bath. “Let me just get a towel. Just... look. You need to just...”

 

He made a move like he was going to kick it but Kevin didn’t even flinch. The bastard. “I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry for feeding you to the eagle. I'm sorry.”

 

Kevin remained diligently poised in the doorway, snarling like Alexander was a particularly appetising cat. “Go away. Go _away_. Go, go. Just let me - hold on.”

 

Alexander laughed proudly and returned a few moments later with the hairdryer in hand. He flicked the switch onto high. Thrusting the hot air into Kevin’s face he snickered when it immediately began to twist away.

 

“Yeah. Huh? How you like that? That's right. That's what I'm talking about. You like that?” Just as he was about to make a break for the cupboard Kevin seemed to pause. And then he was turning into the hot air, his tongue hanging out and head lolling to the side. “You like that. You actually like it.”

 

Frantically, Alexander searched round the bathroom for something to help him. His eyes landed on the bath mat and he grinned, pulling it over towards the door. “Come here.” He called out. “Come to Papa. That's right. Get on the carpet. That's a good boy. Yes!” Kevin’s front paws padded onto the mat, quickly followed by his back. “That's a good boy.” He quickly twisted the bath mat behind him and ran for the door, slamming it behind him.

 

However, before a victory cry could leave his lips he was slamming fully nude.

 

Into another human being.

 

The force of the impact sent them toppling onto the floor, still stuck firmly together. Alexander does not _scream_ but he came pretty damn close when he registered it was John whom he was plastered to, and that John was also _nude._

 

“What the-” John’s face was a picture of confusion.

 

“Oh my God!” Alexander tried to leap away but his legs got tangled and he went crashing back down into John’s chest. “Why are you naked!? Oh, my God!”

 

“Why are you wet?” John exclaimed, finally stirring into action and detangling himself with equal ferocity as Alexander.

 

“Oh, my God. Don't look at me.”

 

“I don't understand. Why are you _wet_?”

 

“Why are you naked?” Alexander snapped, finally vertical and stumbling hastily behind the bed. “Don't look at me. Oh, God!” He looked over his shoulder to find John standing in the middle of the room still stark naked. “You're showing everything. Cover it up, for the love of God.” He scrabbled through the sheets on the bed to find something to wrap himself in. He finally separated one blanket but then- “Oh, God, not the Love Maker.”

 

Once he was safely wrapped in a blanket and he had ensured John was in a towel he glared viciously at the man. “Explain yourself please.”

 

John gawked. “ _Explain_ myself?”

 

“Yes, _explain_ yourself.” Alexander was so flustered he added an extra syllable so really it was exp-uh-lain but that was not the point. The _point_ was John had just naked body slammed him. Naked.

 

“I was outside.”

 

“Really? You didn't hear me?”

 

“I was listening to...” John flapped the headphones Alexander only just noticed he had clutched in his hand. “Anyway, what are you doing home? Were you just waiting to jump me?”

 

“I didn't _mean_ to jump you.” Alexander flapped his free arm about wildly, in his agitated state trying to use mime to get his point across. “Your – your dog was attacking me, and I had to run, and I ran into you.”

 

John groaned. “What is it with you and this dog?”

 

“I-” Alexander huffed. “Just, you know, just... go-”

 

“Fine.” John spun on his heel, throwing his hand up.

 

“Go take a shower.” He called at his back. “You stink.”

 

John yanked open the bathroom door, and Kevin darted out as quick as lightning and into the hallway.

 

Alexander pointed after it. “Hey - see? See? Exactly. You see that?”

 

John widened his eyes dramatically. “Barely made it out with my life there. See the size of the teeth on that thing?”

 

“I didn't-”

 

“Nice tattoo, by the way.”

 

Alexander froze, a hand immediately closing over the markings on his ribs. “What-” John slammed the door shut.

 

 

 

 

 

John tapped his fingers together awkwardly, staring at the ceiling from his makeshift bed on the floor.

 

Today had been… interesting.

 

“So…” He tried to think of something to say, but all that his brain could muster was the vivid memory of Alexander’s body pressed up against his. It had been doing that a lot the past few hours. “So naked.”

 

“Can we not talk about that, please?” Came Alexander’s voice from the bed.

 

“Just sayin'.”

 

There was a long silence after that. John found himself slipping to sleep, the fireplace in the room crackling soft and warm.

 

Clearly, Alexander did not share the sentiment. “So, what's the deal with you and your father?”

 

John hummed loudly. “I'm sorry. That question is not in the binder.”

 

“Oh, really? I thought you were the one that said we needed to learn all this-”

 

“Not about that, I didn't.” John interrupted him quickly, the irritation that had been mysteriously missing since his collision with Alexander settling back in.

 

“But if the guy asks-”

 

“Not about that, Alexander. Good night.”

 

He folded his hands together and glared at the ceiling. Apart from the fire, it was completely silent.

 

He didn’t mean to snap at Alexander. Not like that. Most of the time, he actually enjoyed their banter. And this weekend had been, for some reason, actually fun. Maybe it was because Alexander wasn’t his boss here. John could snark back as much as he wanted. Maybe it was because Alexander’s carefully constructed façade was showing a few cracks. Whatever it was, John found himself not actively… hating it. At all.

 

“I like Law & Order.”

 

His thoughts ground to a halt at the sound of Alexander’s voice. “What?”

 

“Not in the ‘ha-ha, isn't that funny, he likes that trash’ kind of way. I actually quite enjoy it.”

 

John’s head turned slowly towards the bed, not daring to make a sound. He couldn’t see Alexander’s from the floor but he suddenly wished he could.

 

“I took disco lessons in the sixth grade. My first concert was Rob Base & DJ E-Z Rock. I think Brian Cox is sexy.” John smiled. Of course he did. There was a slight pause. “Don't like flowers in the house, 'cause they remind me of funerals. Never played a video game. I read Wuthering Heights every Christmas. It's my favourite book.” Another pause. “Haven't slept with someone in over a year and a half. And...” A long silence this time. “I went to the bathroom and cried after Charles called me a poisonous little bitch. And the tattoo? It’s a swallow. Got it when I was sixteen for my mom. She died when I was twelve.” John could hear a small laugh. Too small. “Stupid. I'm sure there's many, many other things, but that's all I can come up with right now.”

 

John hardly dared to breathe, his mind racing.

 

“You there?”

 

He nodded quickly, then realised Alexander couldn’t see him. “I'm here. Just processing.” He searched desperately for something to say. “You really haven't slept with anyone in 18 months?”

 

“Oh my God.” Alexander laughed again, this time the sound much less hollow and much more warm. “Out of all that, that's all you got?”

 

“That's a long time.”

 

“Yeah, well, I've been a little busy.”

 

John grinned. “Who's Rob Base and D. J...”

 

“E-Z Rock?” Alexander’s voice was incredulous.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You know…” And then very softly, John could hear Alexander singing, “ _It takes two to make a thing go ri-iight._ No?”

 

“No, sorry.”

 

“They were good.”

 

Unable to hold it back, John spluttered a quiet laugh.

 

“What?” Alexander demanded.

 

“Nothing.” He laughed again. “I know who they are. I just wanted to hear you sing it.”

 

Alexander snorted, and really, that shouldn’t have been attractive.

 

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, and John thought the other man might have gone to sleep. “Alexander?” he whispered.

 

“Yes?” The response was just as quiet.

 

“Don't take this the wrong way.”

 

“Okay.”

 

He took a deep breath. “You are a very, very beautiful man.”

 

There was no reply, but for some reason John didn’t feel uncomfortable. If anything, he felt too _comfortable._ Too warm and too content.

 

He shifted onto his side, facing the fire. Grinning again, he pitched his voice into the highest falsetto it could go and screeched out, “ _It takes two to make a thing go ri-ight!_ ”

 

His heart thudded loudly at Alexander’s peal of laughter. And he took back everything – _that_ was more satisfying than any crack he could make in Alexander’s mask.

 

“ _It takes two to make it out of sight.”_

“Feel it deep, feel it low.” Alexander spluttered out through giggles.

 

“Hit it!”

 

“ _I’m not internationally known, but I’m known to rock the microphone.”_

_“It takes two to-_ God, I can’t sing that high.”

 

Alexander descended into another spiral of laughter, and the sound was too infectious for the man’s own good.

 

John went to sleep with his heartbeat singing in his ears.

 

 

 

 

 

 “Room service. Breakfast for the happy couple.”

 

Sound asleep, John vaguely registered a loud voice echoing somewhere.

 

“John! John!” He groaned, not so sound asleep, as a much louder voice hissed at him. “Your mother's at the door. Get up! Get up here!”

 

His eyes flew open as he registered the words and he was stumbling up before his brain was fully awake. “Oh, God.”

 

He quickly bundled up his pillows and blankets and threw them at the bed before diving onto it himself.

 

Alexander made a quiet yelp. “ _Not the love blanket_.” He yanked the patchwork quilt off the bed as John burrowed quickly under the blankets next to him. “Get it off, get it off – okay all right.”

 

“What do we do?” John whispered in panic.

 

“Just spoon me, spoon me.” He seized John’s arm in a tight grip and pulled him closer before depositing himself along John’s front. As soon as he squirmed in though, he was jerking away. “Oh, my God! What is that?”

 

John tried not to blush as Alexander glared murderously at his crotch. “I'm _sorry_. It's _morning_.”

 

“What do you mean, " _It's morning?_ ". I hardly ever have this problem.”

 

“Yes well we’ve already established you’re a _superhuman_ Alexander.”

 

 “Are you okay?” His mother called out from the other side of the door.

 

“One second.” Alexander replied. Then, apparently throwing caution to the wind he returned to his position as the little spoon. John breathed deeply. Really, he was not helping the problem. “Yep. Come on in. Everything's fine.”

 

The door creaked open and his mother’s smiling face peeped in, her arms laden with food.

 

“Oh, wow.” Alexander smiled widely. John was beginning to realise that ‘wow’ was Alexander-speak for ‘help’.

 

“Smells good.” John complimented, eyeing the plate with growing hunger.

 

“Oh, you shouldn't have gone to the trouble.” Alexander stared at all the food – coffee, tea, cinnamon rolls – the works.

 

“Oh, you're family now. It's no trouble.” His mom reassured him gently, walking over to the windows to pull the curtains back. John felt Alexander tense at the words, and he absently stroked his thumb along the man’s arm.

 

There was a knock at the door. “Hey, you have room for one more?”

 

“Wow.” John groaned out – the word was really quite good – as he registered his dad’s happy figure strolling into the room. “Could we not do the Brady family meeting right now? We just got up if you don't mind.”

 

His father ignored him and smiled widely. “Your mother and I have come up with a proposition and I happen to think it's a terrific idea-”

 

“We want you to get married here, tomorrow.” Grace interrupted him with a huge beam, her hands clasped together.

 

“What?” Alexander deadpanned. He then looked over his shoulder at John, eyes wide. “What?”

 

John blinked back at him, then at his mother. “What?”

 

“Well, you're gonna get married anyway. So why don't you get married here where we can be all together.” She was bouncing on the balls of her feet now. “That way Gammy can be a part of it.”

 

“Oh. Oh, we're... No.” Alexander shook his head, clearly trying to look apologetic but only managing raw panic.

 

John was quick to back him up. “No.”

 

 “No, it's Gammy's birthday tomorrow.”

 

“Big day for her.”

 

“We don't want to ruin it.”

 

Speak of the devil and she shall appear.

 

“I've had 89 birthday parties, I don't need another one.” His Gammy scurried into the room, gazing at them both hopefully.

 

“Oh, Gammy.”

 

“It would be a dream come true for me to see my one grandchild's wedding. A dream come true! So you'll do it?”

 

The pair gaped silently at her and each other, searching for something to say.

 

“Before I'm dead?”

 

They both jolted.

 

“Okay. Yep.”

 

“Okay.”

 

His mom squealed, and his grandmother clutched onto her excitedly. “Okay, we will do everything. And you can get married like we did, in the barn.”

 

“It's a Laurens family tradition.” Annie exclaimed.

 

“Oh, wow!” Alexander elbowed John in the gut. John smiled widely to cover up his wince.

 

“Yup.”

 

“I've always wanted to get married in a... in a barn.”

 

John nodded.

 

After a few more minutes of one sided planning, his grandmother ushered his mother and father towards the door.

 

“Okay,” Grace loitered in the doorway. “I know I should leave you alone now.” She hopped from one foot the other. “But we're just so excited! I know you're excited, too.”

 

“It's the craziest.” Alexander nodded solemnly.

 

“Really excited.” John agreed.

 

With another squeal, his mom skipped from the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

 

The second she was gone, John jerked up, pressing his head to his knees. “Oh God. When my mom finds out that this whole thing is a sham she's gonna be crushed.” His breath started coming quicker and his heart was pounding in his ears. “And my _grandmother –_ she… she’s gonna _die_.”

 

Alexander leant his small frame over John’s back and rubbed a hand up his arm soothingly. “Your mom's not gonna find out.”

 

John shook his head. “My father. What's with that? The wedding thing? Where'd that come from?”

 

“She probably got him worked up into it. It's fine. She's not gonna find out. They're not going to find out.”

 

“Alexander-”

 

The man tightened his hold around his shoulders. “John, they're not gonna find out, okay? Just relax. It's gonna be okay. It's not like we're gonna be married forever. We'll be happily divorced before you know it. It will be fine.”

 

They stayed like that for a while, until John’s heartbeat returned to its normal speed. Unfortunately, his head clearing of panic meant he was suddenly very aware of all the points of contact he was making with Alexander. Not to mention the man’s thumb was still rubbing comfortingly on his bicep.

 

“You okay?”

 

No, he was not okay. Alexander’s hair was brushing his cheek and his arms were around his shoulders and his chest was against his back. “Yeah.”

 

A few seconds later, the smaller man pulled back abruptly, clearing his throat. “I’ll, uh – get us some coffee.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

He clambered over to the tray his mother had set on the side table. “So, would you like a cinnamon soy latte?”

 

“Ha.” He forced out a laugh. Desperately he searched for something to look at but all vector lines in the room were running straight towards Alexander in those fucking silk pyjamas. “You're right, you know... Get a quickie divorce, we'll be fine.”

 

“Absolutely.” The man glanced up at him and flashed him a grin. “Gonna be fine.” He picked up the plate and mug he had filled and climbed back over to John. “Everything is going to be great. But I better learn how to cook. Keep my man happy.” He held out the plate and grinned again, far too vibrant and electric for a human being. “I don't want him leaving me for someone else.”

 

John huffed a laugh and reached out to take the plate. “Come on. Haven't left you yet, Alexander.” At that, the man’s eyes widened, black and unreadable. John pulled at the plate, still firmly in his grasp. “I got it. Let go.” Alexander seemed to stir into motion and he let go of the plate, scampering back out of bed “You all right?”

 

“Yeah...” He brushed down the front of his shirt. “You know what? I'm gonna go.”

 

John frowned in confusion. “Where?”

 

“I just kinda… feel like going outside.” He stumbled backwards, hands still tweaking at his clothes.

 

“All right.” He watched him for a moment. “That's the bathroom.”

 

“Oh, yeah.” He gripped at the doorframe and nodded. “I know. I'm just... I'm gonna go to go to the bathroom, and then I'm gonna go out. Outside.”

 

“All right.” The door to the bathroom shut and John sank into the mattress, his heart racing. He ran his hands over his face, muttering into his palms. “All right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope i didn't disappoint with this the bedroom scenes like my fav scene <3
> 
> (also im probs making loads of spelling and grammar mistakes cos i've got irlen syndrome but i am a human boob and i forgot my glasses on this trip. so like pls bear with fam and if you see anything pls tell me eep)


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